When There Is No Sun
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. Mangaverse, spoilers for Chapter 95. "Trapped inside his own skin, he didn't want to live anymore, didn't think he could stand being himself anymore, he just wanted to rage and storm and burn with this fire he'd kept in check for so long." Royai


**Author's Note: So many people have written their versions of this scene in Chapter 95, and it's easy to see why. This was the most emotional scene in FMA for a long time, and we all love to pore over these kinds of scenes till they're threadbare. But I wanted to take a different look at the scene, jumping right into Mustang's mind in these quick moments. I had to sedate the Grammar Nazi in me with an elephant tranquilizer dart for this, because nobody thinks in complete sentences, especially not when they're furious. This is an experimental fic, exploring the use of character voice in third-person. Enjoy, if that's the right word!**

_For Kari on the Royai Forums, who gave me the idea for the content;_

_And for Raskol, who gave me the idea for the style._

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_She is the sunlight when the sun is gone._

_- "She Is The Sunlight" by Trading Yesterday_

It was _right there._ Several paces away, clutched in a metal fist, vulnerable and helpless. One shrimp in the clutches of another. Oh, the irony.

Envy, that slimy rotten writhing loathsome little b- "He deserves a painful, humiliating death," Roy ground out through his clenched teeth, glaring at Full Metal. Who did that boy think he was anyway, he was only sixteen, he had no right to defy his elder, his _superior._ "Give him to me."

And Full Metal, the stubborn brat, said calmly, "I said no."

The boy was protecting Envy. _Protecting_ him! Preventing him from destroying that snivelling son of a- _He killed Hughes, he killed Hughes...._ And Edward stood there, glaring like some self-righteous.... Did he think it was justice to stop him from killing Envy? _He killed Hughes!_

"Give him to me, Full Metal!" Roy roared. "Or I'll burn your arm off with him!"

"Bring it on! I'll take you any time!" The fool. As if he could withstand the Flame Alchemist's deadliest weapon. "Take a good look at your face before you do anything! You think you could lead a country looking like that?" _You fool, you brat, as if you knew the tenth of what I've gone through, the sacrifices I've made-_ "That's what your goal was supposed to be!" _-the people who've fallen at my side, and that's why I have to kill him, get rid of him, stamp him out of all existence-_

Scar was talking, but Roy couldn't hear him over the pounding in his ears. He could practically feel himself quiver with rage, staring at that hideous creature, that miserable, evil little- _He killed Hughes!_

Then, Hawkeye. Cold gun pressed against the nape of his neck, colder voice slapping against his ears. "I can't let you kill Envy, Colonel," she said, as if she'd ever had any say in the matter, as if she was higher rank than him, as if she wasn't fulfilling her promise to him and _oh how he hated her for it!_ "But I don't intend to let him live," she said, infernally calm, why did she have to be so calm, always, whenever he was burning up inside she was always there, cold, collected, distant, and he hated hated _hated_ it. "I'll take care of him."

_Like hell you will! He killed Hughes, he's the reason he's dead, he's the cause of all this pain inside, don't you see how this has torn me apart and I want to rip that shrimp into a thousand pieces with my bare hands and burn every piece into cinders and burn the cinders into ashes and burn the ashes into dust and I'll laugh and enjoy every minute of it and make him suffer suffer _suffer_ a thousand times more than I have! _But the gun barrel pressed against the back of his neck, Full Metal had the shrimp, and he was trapped. Trapped inside his own skin, he didn't want to live anymore, didn't think he could stand being himself anymore, he just wanted to rage and storm and burn with this fire he'd kept in check for so long, so long, so _long_. "It's taken so long!" he shouted, pushing his voice till it tore the back of his throat and he didn't care, he didn't care, he just wanted to be engulfed in these waves of pain and make everyone in the whole wide world feel how deeply his heart had ached all these long months. "But I _finally_ have him!"

Roy would have kept shouting, but Hawkeye shouted louder. She always shouted louder, somehow, even though her normal voice was so soft. "I understand! But...But it's not to help the country or save a comrade! You only want to kill him to satisfy your own hatred!" Oh, what did that matter, she'd known he was pressing towards this for months, so why didn't she just put away the stupid gun and let him get on with it? She would never understand how he felt, what it was like to lose someone so precious that-

"Please, Colonel...." Her voice and hands trembled, the gun shivering against his skin. "Don't go where I can't follow!"

Agony. He had to get rid of that slug Envy, he _had_ to; if he didn't he would surely die from this pain ripping him apart, the old embers from all those months ago fanned and flaring into life again, more fiercely than ever. They would eat him alive – _He...killed...Hughes.... _- but if he attacked she would shoot. _To hell with it all! I don't care if I die, but I have to get rid of that slime if it's the last thing I do, and she can blow my brains out if she likes, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care...._

Gritted teeth. He was suddenly, inexplicably aware of his tongue, dry in his mouth. Everything seemed to come into sharper focus. Clenching his fists, Roy spat out, "If you're going to shoot, shoot." He didn't care, didn't care...didn't care.... "What will you do after I'm dead?" Mere curiosity, of course. He didn't care. Couldn't, wouldn't.

A pregnant pause, then, "I have no desire to live a happy, carefree life all alone. After this battle is over...my body will leave this world together with the corpse of the Flame Alchemist."

How did she make even such a morbid statement sound like a poem? Her voice was so sad, as if she was singing her own requiem. _What am I doing?_ Roy stood, staring at his fist clenched before him, the white fabric of his glove pulled tight across his knuckles. _Just _listen_ to that voice, so defeated and weary, like she's lost the will to live...._ And small wonder. She was fulfilling her promise, that promise neither of them had ever foreseen would be carried out so soon. How had he let this happen? How had he slipped so much that she had actually had to pull a gun on him?

Of course. Because he'd become a monster. A monster like the one he wanted to kill so desperately. And when he looked at Envy, he forgot everything else in the face of causing as much pain as possible and _enjoying_ it. He was no different from Kimbley. What a fool! In frustration, Roy snapped his fingers as he'd been longing to do, aiming his explosion at the wall to his side. And with that blast, all his anger seeped away.

She'd been prepared to kill him. Kill him! And then kill herself. Was he really that important to her? Was he so crucial she couldn't even _live_ if he became a monster? Well, wasn't that reason enough to stop this nonsense? If she died, it would be all his fault, just like Hughes, and maybe that was the real reason he was so hell-bent on killing Envy. He didn't want to admit he was partly responsible for Hughes's death, because that was pain a thousand times worse than him just being gone. Oh, Hughes, Hughes, why did it have to happen? But Hughes was gone, and Hawkeye was still here. Yes, Hawkeye was always here.

"Unacceptable," Roy murmured, astonished to hear his own soft, slightly hoarse voice. "I won't lose you, too." He let out a bone-deep sigh and looked around, feeling so old for his mere thirty years, as if he'd aged all in one moment. "What a messed up situation. Letting a child anger me, being lectured by my enemy, forcing you to act like you did...." What had come over him? How could he ever have thought letting his rage overtake him would put his mind at peace? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I'm such a fool," he told his toes, clenching his fists at his sides.

Oh, Hawkeye, to have to see him like this! He turned around to face her, saw her face open and vulnerable and hurt and- Had he done this himself? She was still pointing her gun, trembling, at him; he reached out and clasped her hand – _warm, soft, strong_ – and looked into her familiar chestnut eyes. "Lower your gun, Lieutenant," he said softly; how he wished she'd never had to raise it. "I apologize."

Relief and release and letting go of all that hatred. He didn't want it, didn't need it; and all of a sudden he needed to sit down. They slumped down onto the hard floor, the two of them, shoulders slumping, faces sagging with weariness. But it was all right, because in her eyes was forgiveness – like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. _She's my sunlight when there is no sun._

Maybe he could make some poetry too.


End file.
